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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386357">A Familiar's Familiar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo'>HeartlessMemo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Familiar's Familiar [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>What We Do in the Shadows (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Corporal Punishment, Dom Guillermo, Dom/sub, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Gift Fic, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, body disposal, sub Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[Gender-Neutral Reader!] Guillermo serves Nandor. You serve Guillermo. You are an under-familiar. That means you're responsible for all the household grunt work, specifically: dead body disposal. When a careless mistake results in injury, Guillermo has to pick up your slack and he's not happy about it. The guilt and shame you feel at disappointing your master is intense. But Guillermo knows just will make you feel better: a spanking.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Guillermo de la Cruz/Original Character(s), Guillermo de la Cruz/Reader, Guillermo de la Cruz/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Familiar's Familiar [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Familiar's Familiar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraveledwords/gifts">unraveledwords</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Can you say......SELF-INDULGENT??????!!!!<br/>This is a gift fic for the lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraveledwords/pseuds/unraveledwords">unraveledwords</a> who is now my BDSM BFF.<br/>Thanks to Meli for beta reading this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“How many fucking times do I have to tell you to be careful with the lye?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillermo holds your hands under the faucet as ice-cold water rinses and soothes the angry red burns. His fingers are tight around your forearms, digging angrily into your skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, master,” you whimper, hanging your head in shame. You can feel his disappointed eyes burning holes through the top of your head. What would he see if he could look inside? Would he recognize your pitiful love for him? Would it look anything like the feelings he has for his own master?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you are,” Guillermo responds, shaking his head. “You’re going to be useless to me for days because of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your breath catches and tears sting your eyes worse than the damn burns. “No, please, master!” you beg, hating the sound of your own voice, so whiny and cloying. “Please, I can still be useful!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillermo turns off the tap and grabs a towel from the rack, gently wrapping your hands in the fluffy fabric. His touch is kind and soft even as he speaks with steel in his voice. “How, when you’re too stupid to do the simplest chores without nearly crippling yourself? I can’t believe how much time I’ve spent training you and still I have to deal with this shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sniffle and bite back the words that come automatically to your tongue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Simplest chores? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’ve been dissolving human remains in a solution of lye and water! Your more gruesome familiar duties include grave digging and dismembering corpses! And you work so hard to be good at it. Why? You don’t give a shit about Nandor. It’s all for Guillermo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallow the angry words, and what’s left is the hollow ache of disappointing your master. Tears finally spill over your cheeks and you collapse forward, leaning your head into his soft chest and sobbing. Guillermo wraps his arms around you and rubs a few soothing circles into your back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, that’s enough,” he sighs, pulling away after only a few seconds. Shame burns in your throat as you try to follow him, unwilling to let the embrace end so quickly. He retrieves a roll of gauze from the medicine cabinet and takes your hands in his, delicately covering your burns. “You think you can manage folding my laundry after this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s freezing outside but Guillermo’s forehead glistens with a thin sheen of sweat. He grunts as he hauls the heavy cadaver over the threshold, tossing it down the steps with impressive strength. You’d be swooning if you weren’t currently being eaten up with the guilt of your beloved master having to do your work for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, master,” you say for the thousandth time as he turns to retrieve the next body from inside the house. You’re holding the door open, your bandaged hands hanging limp and incriminating at your sides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to hear it,” Guillermo snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose and you yearn to reach out and fix them for him, but that level of presumption is unthinkable at this very moment. It’s not that you don’t share soft moments with your master sometimes. At the end of the night after he’s tucked Nandor into his coffin, when everything is quiet and still, you turn down his bed for him, collecting his dirty laundry as he undresses and changes into his pajamas. You hardly ever speak during those moments but the quiet intimacy between the both of you is enough to fuel your hopeless fantasies. You pull the covers up over him and let the backs of your fingertips graze over his body as you do so. You dream about climbing into that big, soft bed with him, cuddling up and pressing your lips to his…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Guillermo is not in the mood for soft indulgence. He’s annoyed and exhausted. The heavy burden of his disappointment weighs on you. You’re jumpy and nervous; you feel like at any second you’ll either burst into tears or scream at him to forgive you. Possibly both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes back out with another wrapped bundle, significantly bigger than the last. He pauses in the doorway and glares at you; his cheek is spattered with blood. You might faint with how sinfully attractive he looks while giving you murder eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?” he says. “I think you did this on purpose. When was the last time we had five bodies in the cell?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nadja and Laszlo had themselves a blood feast last night. You’d spent ages scrubbing the fancy room before starting the grisly job of dismembering and dissolving the first corpse. Your accident had cut things short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, master, I wouldn’t!” you plead. “Please let me help you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bend down to grasp one end of the bundle but Guillermo stops you with a sharp slash of his hand through the air. “What did I tell you? You need to let those heal or you’ll have permanent damage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re forced to stand by and watch as your master painstakingly saws, hacks and cuts the bodies down to size. His jacket and apron are covered in blood by the time he finishes stuffing all the parts into the large, heavy-duty trash bags that you awkwardly hold open for him. He’s panting with the exertion and the job still isn’t done. Now he needs to carry everything into the basement where the vats of lye solution stand ready to do the job of dissolving the evidence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses to catch his breath. You catch his eyes and it’s suddenly too much to hold everything inside. A sob wracks your form and you drop your head, hiding your face as tears fall. Guillermo sighs and you imagine him rolling his eyes at you as he gathers the bags and trudges around to the basement entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You filled the tubs up too high,” he comments. “You need to leave some room at the top otherwise they’ll overflow like earlier, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts his hand up to the outside of one tub, indicating the fill line and you nod your head, eager to appease him even as exhausted, overwhelmed tears sting your cheeks. Guillermo is so strong. He lifts the deadweight of each body part with seeming ease, carefully lowering them into the tubs until each one is filled. When he’s finished he turns back to you and regards your crying, whimpering form for a moment before speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go take a shower. There’s nothing more for you to do. I want you to go to your room and stay there. You’ll just be in the way, otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day is the same, although thankfully Laszlo and Nadja refrain from another blood frenzy. But, again, you’re forced to stand idle as your master toils with the tasks that should be your responsibility. You can practically feel his aggravation with you bubbling beneath the surface of his cold demeanor, and it sends you into an anxious spiral. You live for Guillermo’s praise, for the rare little smiles he gives you when you’ve done something particularly good. For those coveted words as he strokes a hand through your hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Good familiar.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> just feels awful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You want to be good again but you don’t know how. You can’t make your body heal any faster. You can’t think of a way to make it up to your master. Well...certainly there are ways you’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make it up to him, but Guillermo has never indicated that he’d be interested in you in that way. Why would he be interested in you? A worthless, stupid excuse for a familiar who can’t do anything right…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You find yourself standing outside his bedroom door, heart in your throat as you rap your knuckles on the solid wood. His face is a stoic mask when he lets you in. As soon as the door shuts you fall onto your knees at his feet, wrapping your arms around his legs and pressing your face into his thick thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please let me be good again, master!” you cry, not even knowing what you mean by the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Guillermo sinks his fingers into your hair and you weep with relief. Guillermo knows what you need, doesn’t he? He’s served his master for so long, he must know how to help you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wondered how long it would take you to finally come to me,” he muses, his fingernails dragging lightly over your scalp. You mewl and nuzzle your face into his thigh. For a fleeting moment you think about shifting over a few inches and pressing your mouth to the crotch of his khaki pants, wantonly rubbing your face against him and begging for the chance to pleasure him. But that would be for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and that’s not what this is about, is it? He says your name and a shiver runs down your spine. “You won’t feel better until you’re punished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The revelation is so simple yet so fucking profound. You can earn back your place as Guillermo’s good familiar. Oh, god, you’ll let him do anything to you if he’ll only scourge the shame from your soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please punish me, master,” you tilt your head back and look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillermo’s lips curve into a smile. It’s not his “good job” smile or his “secret joke” smile and it’s certainly not the smile he reserves for Nandor. This is a smile like a knife’s edge and a sudden qualm echoes through your stomach. You’ve devoted yourself to this man, making it your goal to please him in the pathetic hope that he might simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. But you’ve never been at his mercy before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what are you going to do?” Your voice quavers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than answer you, he shows you. He helps you up, grasping your elbow rather than your injured hand, and walks you over to the bed. He sits, regarding you with cold, expressionless eyes and indicating your pants with a nod of his head. “Take those off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief infinity you are struck motionless. Like a squirrel who, seeing a car on the road, cannot decide whether to sprint across to the other side or turn back to safety. You don’t have to do this. Guillermo might be mean and exacting, but he wouldn’t force you. Your fingers tremble as they move to the button of your jeans. Popping it open feels like opening Pandora’s box. What are you starting? And is it something you can ever come back from? Would you even want to?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good familiar,” he purrs, his voice soft as always. All doubts fly out of your head at those words. You scramble to shimmy the jeans down your legs, discarding them in a crumpled heap on the floor. Guillermo eyes you with a single arched brow and he doesn’t even need to say anything; you pick up the jeans and neatly fold them, setting them down on the bed beside him. His smile waters you, makes you feel stronger even as you’re putting yourself under his control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pats his lap and you step closer, stopping right next to him, unsure. It’s obvious what he intends to do but you’re horrifically shy about it. Does he want you to drape yourself over his knee? Or should you sit on his lap to start? What if you look like an idiot--a kid sitting on Santa’s lap? The questions and worries chase each other around in your mind until you’re paralyzed with indecision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush,” Guillermo says, reading the panic on your face. He puts his hands on your hips, turning you and pressing down on the small of your back until you’re lying across his lap, pinned. You sigh in pure relief, melting against him and shutting your eyes. Guillermo will take care of you. You don’t need to worry about what comes next or how to behave; you don’t even have to worry about displeasing him. Guillermo won’t let you mess up. He’s in charge now. A tiny sob escapes you at the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, master!” you cry, rubbing your cheek against the side of his fleshy thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillermo’s hand smooths over your backside and goosebumps break out on your flesh. His hand is soft, delicate. He strokes you through your underwear, circling each round cheek before taking hold of the waistband and pulling down to expose you completely. From your position you can’t see his face. Is he looking at you? Inspecting you? Is he pleased with what he sees or is he detached and clinical?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me yet, my little familiar.” There’s a smirk in his voice and then the first smack lands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did you expect? For a man who regularly lures people to their deaths to be gentle? His hand lands on your quivering flesh with brutal force. You hiss, tears springing to your eyes on impact. Before you have a chance to grapple with the pain of the first blow, a second one is falling on your other side. This time you moan and cry out, squirming on his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillermo’s quiet voice reaches into you and tugs you back from the pain. “My good familiar,” he says and delivers another bruising smack. “Look how well you’re taking your punishment. I’m so proud of you, chiquis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words unlock something inside of you and all of your anxiety, your shame, your sorrow and your love comes pouring out. You weep; big, wracking sobs shake your shoulders and you dig your fingers into your master’s leg, desperately clinging to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cry out your thanks as his hand continues it’s merciless assault. The violence of that soft, delicate hand is shocking. He hits you over and over again, never landing on the same place twice, but always leaving behind a stinging, burning ache that feels like a brand on your skin. A brand of Guillermo’s dear name. You belong to him. The thought sends a thrill of arousal straight to your groin. He’ll never be yours but you don’t care if he’ll only allow you to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually the pain eclipses everything else, even the sweet surrender of giving in to your master’s justice. Even the revelation of his hard erection thrusting against your belly. The pleasant, fuzzy cloud that’s enveloped your senses begins to thin and you jump and sob with every slap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, master,” you finally cry, flinching and trying to pull away when you sense his hand raising for another blow. “Please stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillermo’s hand comes down one last time, resting gently on your burning, bruised flesh. He brushes his palm over his handiwork and asks, “Do you feel better now, little one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like waking up from anesthesia. The pleasant buzz of submission fades from your mind and you feel shaky and vulnerable, but also clean and renewed. “Yes,” you breathe, affection and gratitude filling your voice. “Was I good, master?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guillermo replaces your underpants and gently tugs you off his lap, laying you down on the plush fabric of his comforter. “You did so well, chiquis. I’m proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re in your master’s bed, your head resting on his pillow. You’re shameless, burying your nose into the pillow and inhaling Guillermo’s scent. Your eyelids feel heavy and you really shouldn’t fall asleep here in your master’s space but oh, how you wish your little fantasy could come true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I a good familiar, master?” you ask. Your voice is tiny and afraid in the soft quiet of Guillermo’s bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strokes his hand through your hair, pressing a kiss to your cheek and whispering, “You’re the best familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh sleepily and scoff, “That’s not true, master. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the best familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes have somehow drifted closed and the next thing you’re aware of is the mattress dipping behind you as Guillermo climbs under the covers. He manhandles you a bit, until he manages to drag the blankets up over your body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” he finally answers, reaching over to click off his bedside lamp. “Then you’re the best familiar’s familiar.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
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